Treading Water
by a.lakewood
Summary: COMPLETE. A three-part series. oxo There are two versions of the second part.
1. Part One

Title: Treading Water (1/3)  
Characters: Dean, Sam, John, Bobby  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Bobby suggests a family outing for Sam's birthday.  
Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.  
Warnings: None.

Treading Water  
1/3  
by a.lakewood

**XOX**

_May 2, 1992_

For some reason, Sam's birthday always reminded John of Mary. And, every year, instead of celebrating his son's life, he'd mourn his wife's death – the day spent alone in a dark bar.

But Bobby was having none of it this year. John and the boys happened to be there for the couple weeks surrounding Sam's ninth birthday.

"Take those boys somewhere, John. Spend the day with 'em."

"And what do you suggest we do? Go _fishing_?" John asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Why the hell not? Either of 'em know how to cast a line?"

"I don't think either of them's ever been in a boat, Bobby."

"Then it'll be...special. Take some time with 'em. You know, _bond_. In our line of work, you never know-"

Dean, who had been eavesdropping from just outside the doorway into the kitchen, decided to make his presence known before Bobby could say anything else. "What about a boat?"

"Your Dad's takin' you and Sammy fishing. Go get your brother," Bobby replied, eying John.

**XOX**

As Sam and Dean excitedly piled into the car, John had grumbled something to Bobby about not even having a license, but Bobby just said, "Shut up and have a good time. See you kids later."

Bobby had a friend a little over an hour away that had a few acres of land that edged a well-stocked lake.

The ride was pleasant until Dean made a comment about water monsters. At Sam's quivering lip, he added, "Haven't you ever heard of the Loch Ness monster? Like a dinosaur and big as one, too."

"Dad?"

"There's no such thing as the Loch Ness monster, _Dean_," John said, giving his eldest son a pointed look.

"But how do you know?" Sam questioned. "I mean...all the other things that you thought weren't real, are. When I was little-"

"You still _are_ little," Dean interrupted.

Sam continued as if Dean hadn't said a thing. "You said there was no such thing as the boogeyman. But they're really real."

"Well," John sighed, "if Nessie's real, she's in Scotland. There's nothing to worry about in this lake." He reached into the backseat and ruffled Sam's hair.

The next half hour was spent with John telling his boys about the different kinds of water spirits he'd encountered.

John eased the Impala off the highway onto the gravel road Bobby had told him to take. On the left-hand side, a hundred yards or so beyond the turn-off, was a lane marked with a big, green mailbox, "Gilmore" on the side in reflective stickers. There was a man standing out in the yard at the end of the driveway, part way between the house and the dock. John parked beside a blue pickup, then he, Sam, and Dean got out of the car.

"John?" the man asked, reaching out a hand. "Dave Gilmore."

They shook hands. "John Winchester. My boys, Dean and Sam."

"Hi, kids," Dave said. "Bobby tells me one of you's got a birthday today."

Sam just nodded vigorously.

Dave started towards the dock. "Well, I've got her loaded up for you already. Life jackets, poles, bait. My wife packed you some sandwiches also."

"That really wasn't necessary," John started to protest.

Dave just held up a hand. "It was nothing, honest. Anyway, any friend of Bobby's is a friend of mine."

"Well," John began, scratching the back of his neck, "thanks, Dave."

"You're welcome. Just have fun out there."

When Dave headed back for the house, Dean elbowed Sam. "Race ya."

"Hey!" Sam squealed as his brother got a head-start. "You cheated."

Dean just wrinkled his nose at Sam as he waited for John to reach them. "So," he said, casting a glance at the small flat-bottomed boat.

"I'll go first," John said, pushing past his sons. He carefully stepped into the boat. Once seated at the back, be gestured for Sam. 'You next, son."

Sam clung to Dean's hand as his older brother helped him climb in. "Thanks," he said, all but flying towards their dad.

When Dean boarded, he threw his weight so suddenly to one side that the boat started to tip. Upon seeing the wide-eyed look on his brother's face, he did it again.

"Dad!" Sam cried out.

"Dean! Stop rocking the boat."

"Sorry, sir."

**XOX**

The afternoon was spent on the lake, in the sunshine, just the three of them. John taught them how to bait their hooks, and cast their lines, and reel in their fish. And how to throw them back. "No sense in making them suffer," John had said.

It might not have been _his_, but it was the best birthday Dean ever had, too.


	2. Part Two xx Wincest

Title: Treading Water 2/3  
Author: alakewood  
Warnings: **This is the Wincest version – stop now if that offends you, and check out the Wincest-free version.  
**Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean  
Rating: R  
Summary: Sam's 18th, celebrated Dean Winchester style.  
Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.

**XOXOX**

_May 2, 2001_

"Happy birthday, dude," Dean said, handing a bottle of beer to Sam as he ruffled his brother's hair before leaning back in his plastic chaise lounge beside the pool.

Sam sat facing him, elbows on his knees, beer bottle dangling between his legs. He tipped it towards Dean as he raised it to his lips. "Thanks."

"Least I could do." The condensation on the glass clung to his fingertips as he took a drink. He watched Sam, who sipped at his own beer, soft blue glow from the underwater pool lighting a slow strobe over Sam's face in the near-darkness. Dean had taken the risk of breaking into the hotel swimming pool, but he wasn't reckless enough to start turning on the outdoor lights.

Sam started at the water, lost in thought.

As much as Dean enjoyed quiet, Sam's silence was getting to him. "What?" he asked, wanting to know what was going through his brother's mind.

"Just thinking."

"Duh. Really?"

Sam cracked a grin. "Sorry. It's just...I'm eighteen now."

"You can legally buy your own porn." He raised his eyebrows a couple of times, smirking.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I can vote. And...I'm officially an adult – fully emancipated from Dad. He can't pull that 'I'm your father and I said so' bullshit anymore."

Dean sat up straight, his position mirroring Sam's. Something began to coil tightly in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't even ten minutes into Sam's birthday and he was already trying to figure out how to get away from John.

That thing in his stomach, Dean realized, was dread. Were things really that bad? He'd noticed Sam getting restless a couple of months before – had been hoping that it was run-of-the-mill senioritis, just anxiety about graduating. But he _knew_ it was more than that. Because he was certain that no one knew Sam like he did. And, even though the fear was completely baseless, it sometimes felt like _he_ was part of the reason Sam was in such a hurry to leave. "Wow," was all he could say, though.

"I don't know why you've stayed with him so long. _Willingly_. What about your future?"

Dean stood abruptly, gesturing wildly for no reason, beer sloshing out of his bottle. His laugh was completely mirthless. "What _future_? Look at me, Sam! The hunt's all I've got. It's the only thing I've ever been good at. I'm not smart like you. This is _it_. You, and Dad. All I have. He's the only reason we're still here, why we're alive. _So back off_."

Sam was on his feet now, too. "Why are you always defending him? Yeah, we're alive, but what kind of life is this? Moving from town to town; no roots, no friends, no real home. I didn't ask for this. It's Dad's life, not mine."

At that, something in Dean snapped. He shoved Sam _hard_, and they both went flying into the deep end of the swimming pool.

"The fuck's your problem, Dean?" He stared at his brother for a moment and, when Dean started towards the shallower end, it became apparent that he wouldn't be getting a reply.

Dean stopped at the edge of the pool, making no move to get out. He turned to face Sam. "What's it matter anyway?"

Sam glanced away, suddenly looking guilty. "I got in to Stanford," he said quietly.

It took a few seconds for that to sink in. Dean couldn't find his voice when he understood exactly what it meant.

"I'm going."

The whole situation became more than discussion of Sam leaving – Dean had had the tiniest of hopes that Sam would stay. But that was unrealistic. Sam was leaving; it was a certainty now. "That's good. Really," he finally said. But he didn't mean it.

And Sam knew it. Because no one knew Dean like he did. "Dean." He looked helpless. Without warning, he surged forward – a rogue wave – crashing against Dean.

Sam kissed him forcefully, tasting of beer and chlorine. "Sam." A firm hand on his brother's chest, he could feel his warm skin and pounding heart through the soaked cotton. But Sam didn't stop, just kept kissing him until Dean gave in and kissed back. Sam had him pinned against the side, bodies flush. Knew that even through two layers of waterlogged denim, his burgeoning erection was unmistakable when Sam's palm and long fingers curled around him.

"Dean," he said, low and kind of breathy. "Dean." Kissed him again, needy. Thrust into the hollow at the juncture of Dean's hip and lower belly.

Dean was taken by utter surprise, not realizing how badly he'd wanted – _needed_ – this. It only took a minute, rocking into Sam's hand, holding the back of Sam's neck so Sam's mouth couldn't slip away, and Dean was coming. "Sammy," he whispered, riding out the pleasure rolling through his body. When it finally subsided, he succeeded in pushing Sam away. He turned and hoisted himself up onto the cement. "You deserve better." Didn't look at Sam. Couldn't.

The confusion in Sam's voice was evident. "Better than what?"

Back still to Sam, he shrugged.

"Than you?"

"Better than _me_, this _life_." He faced his brother. "You said it yourself – you didn't ask for this. You have a _future_. I don't. And now I don't even have you."

Dean had disappeared back into the hotel by the time Sam pulled himself from the water. He knew, though, that Dean wouldn't be in their room when he got there. Nobody knew Dean like Sam did.


	3. Part Two xx Wincestfree

Title: Treading Water 2/3  
Author: alakewood  
Characters: Dean, Sam  
Rating: PG-13, for the f-word.  
Summary: Sam's 18th, celebrated Dean Winchester style.  
Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.  
A/N: **The Wincest-free version.**

**XOXOX**

_May 2, 2001_

"Happy birthday, dude," Dean said, handing a bottle of beer to Sam as he ruffled his brother's hair before leaning back in his plastic chaise lounge beside the pool.

Sam sat facing him, elbows on his knees, beer bottle dangling between his legs. He tipped it towards Dean as he raised it to his lips. "Thanks."

"Least I could do." The condensation on the glass clung to his fingertips as he took a drink. He watched Sam, who sipped at his own beer, soft blue glow from the underwater pool lighting a slow strobe over Sam's face in the near-darkness. Dean had taken the risk of breaking into the hotel swimming pool, but he wasn't reckless enough to start turning on the outdoor lights.

Sam started at the water, lost in thought.

As much as Dean enjoyed quiet, Sam's silence was getting to him. "What?" he asked, wanting to know what was going through his brother's mind.

"Just thinking."

"Duh. Really?"

Sam cracked a grin. "Sorry. It's just...I'm eighteen now."

"You can legally buy your own porn." He raised his eyebrows a couple of times, smirking.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I can vote. And...I'm officially an adult – fully emancipated from Dad. He can't pull that 'I'm your father and I said so' bullshit anymore."

Dean sat up straight, his position mirroring Sam's. Something began to coil tightly in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't even ten minutes into Sam's birthday and he was already trying to figure out how to get away from John.

That thing in his stomach, Dean realized, was dread. Were things really that bad? He'd noticed Sam getting restless a couple of months before – had been hoping that it was run-of-the-mill senioritis, just anxiety about graduating. But he _knew_ it was more than that. Because he was certain that no one knew Sam like he did. And, even though the fear was completely baseless, it sometimes felt like _he_ was part of the reason Sam was in such a hurry to leave. "Wow," was all he could say, though.

"I don't know why you've stayed with him so long. _Willingly._ What about your future?"

Dean stood abruptly, gesturing wildly for no reason, beer sloshing out of his bottle. His laugh was completely mirthless. "What _future_? Look at me, Sam! The hunt's all I've got. It's the only thing I've ever been good at. I'm not smart like you. This is _it_. You, and Dad. All I have. He's the only reason we're still here, why we're alive. _So back off_."

Sam was on his feet now, too. "Why are you always defending him? Yeah, we're alive, but what kind of life is this? Moving from town to town; no roots, no friends, no real home. I didn't ask for this. It's Dad's life, not mine."

At that, something in Dean snapped. He shoved Sam _hard_, and they both went flying into the deep end of the swimming pool.

"The fuck's your problem, Dean?" He stared at his brother for a moment and, when Dean started towards the shallower end, it became apparent that he wouldn't be getting a reply.

Dean stopped at the edge of the pool, making no move to get out. He turned to face Sam. "What's it matter anyway?"

Sam glanced away, suddenly looking guilty. "I got in to Stanford," he said quietly.

It took a few seconds for that to sink in. Dean couldn't find his voice when he understood exactly what it meant.

"I'm going."

The whole situation became more than discussion of Sam leaving – Dean had had the tiniest of hopes that Sam would stay. But that was unrealistic. Sam was leaving; it was a certainty now. "That's good. Really," he finally said. But he didn't mean it.

And Sam knew it. Because no one knew Dean like he did.

He turned and hoisted himself up onto the cement. "You deserve better." Didn't look at Sam. Couldn't.

The confusion in Sam's voice was evident. "Better than what?"

Back still to Sam, he shrugged.

"Than you?"

"Better than _me_, this _life_." He faced his brother. "You said it yourself – you didn't ask for this. You have a _future_. I don't. And now I don't even have you."

Dean had disappeared back into the hotel by the time Sam pulled himself from the water. He knew, though, that Dean wouldn't be in their room when he got there. Nobody knew Dean like Sam did.


	4. Part Three

Title: Treading Water 3/3  
Author: alakewood  
Warnings: Slight spoilers for AHBL (both parts). Character death?  
Characters: Dean, mentions of Sam  
Rating: PG  
Summary: _He'd be damned if he'd let the hellhounds come for him. Well, he'd be damned either way._

**XOXOX**

_May 2, 2008_

Dean wasn't sure what it was that brought him back to Lawrence during those last days. He'd left Sam at some seedy motel in Michigan.

He'd gone for coffee and a newspaper, Sam still asleep. Two days later, he found himself in Kansas, the drive a total blur, Lawrence on the horizon.

It was a warm, rather pleasant afternoon. He glanced over his shoulder, squinting into the sunlight, looking at the impala. He entertained the thought of calling Sam for the briefest of moments. His phone wasn't off, just on silent – he knew Sam could use some nerdy, GPS tracking system to find him – he just didn't really want to talk to him. What was he supposed to say?

Dean continued down the gently sloping hill towards the river's edge. Wandering off the narrow path, he stooped to pluck a marigold from a haphazard patch amongst tall weeds. The plant was completely out of place – it was hearty enough to grow just about anywhere, but he didn't think they bloomed until later in the summer.

Sand was cool and gritty between his toes as he walked along the bank, finding a small outcropping of limestone to sit on.

Pulling the yellow petals from the offending flower, he recalled the first time he'd seen one.

Mary was pregnant with Sam, her belly swollen. She couldn't stay still, was constantly moving. Dean remembered that it drove John crazy. He just wanted her to rest, but she wanted to clean the house and rearrange the nursery. And rearrange the nursery again. Then she wanted to start planting a garden.

It had started with marigolds.

Dean had liked the tulips – with all the different colors; and they smelled better. But marigolds were Mary's favorite, John had insisted.

Named for Mary, mother of Jesus. Interesting, that. But, Mary was their mother, too. And Sam, apparently, was the antichrist.

The yellow petals swirled in a gust of wind that strewed them across the water.

Dean stood, moved closer to the river. Sand gave way to mud that squelched between his toes. Kept walking.

Ankle-deep, the mud began to turn into clay.

Knee-deep, felt the slightest pull of the current.

Creeping up his thighs, the water was cold.

He stepped off a ledge, suddenly completely submerged. The water was murky, but he could see his exhaled breath float to the surface in a series of bubbles, could see the way the sunlight refracted and danced about them.

His pulse thudded like a timpani in his ears, a low, reverberating and hollow sound of a war drum. His lungs burned, stretched tight like the head of that drum.

There was something there, behind the pounding, but the current was stronger now, started to pull him downstream. He didn't fight it.

**x**

In the beginning, the feeling was just a dull ache that, over time, became a bone-deep exhaustion. Made him feel like Atlas with the world – his world, _Sam_ - on his shoulders.

At some point, his body could no longer bear the weight. He simply gave up, gave in.

You can only tread water for so long.

Besides that, your past always has a way of catching up with you – Dean had been running from it for too long, but he'd be damned if he'd let the hellhounds come for him. Well, he'd be damned either way.

He opened his mouth, breathed deep of the silt-filled water. Coughed, the gasping-for-air reflex causing him to suck in more riverwater.

He felt his lungs fill. Could hear his named being called frantically. "Dean! _Dean!_"

_Sam._

Felt panic and fear, and the sudden urge to _live_.

But the darkness was creeping closer, pulling him deeper. His arms and legs were heavy, like lead weights were pulling him down.

Sinking; the sunlight was getting fainter and fainter, then nothing but darkness.

**x**

You can only tread water for so long.


End file.
